


And On Tuesdays, We Turn Back Time

by unkissed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Book: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, M/M, SteamPunk!Draco, SteamPunk!Theodore, Time Travel, Time Turner, Wizard Science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does one do when one has too much money, too much time on their hands, and a very unattractive surname on their resume?  One naturally goes into Science.  Yes, Science – the new fashionable pastime of the idle rich – because everything muggle is now roguishly stylish these days.</p><p>In a vaguely Steampunk post-Voldemort wizarding world, Theodore Nott develops a Time Turner.  He and Draco Malfoy do their level best to not screw with history as they relive it.  But nobody ever told them they couldn't screw IN history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: For Science, Because Wizard Science is Now a Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This can hardly be considered Cursed Child fan fiction, though it does borrow an idea or two from the published stage play script. Nevertheless, I suppose I should warn you of very mild and vague Cursed Child spoilers, though good luck trying to even find said spoilers.
> 
> Also, for the sake of not driving myself insane, everything that takes place in present day is aesthetically Steampunk. Everything in the past looks exactly the way it does in Harry Potter canon, or at least fanon.
> 
> For my bestie, Colorfulstabwound, who has dug a grave beside my own.

Theodore Nott doesn’t need the money. He doesn’t need the recognition. He doesn’t even need acknowledgement. Because Theodore is like any other exceedingly wealthy pureblood in the Post-Voldemort Era.

 

He’s bored as fuck.

 

It just so happens that one Lucius Malfoy, fresh out of a reduced-sentence-term in Azkaban, is also bored as fuck. And even though reparations had been paid after his liquid assets had been un-frozen by The Ministry, Lucius is still rich as sin.

 

What does one do when one has too much money, too much time on their hands, and a very unattractive surname on their resume? One naturally goes into Science. Yes, Science – the new fashionable pastime of the idle rich – because everything muggle is now roguishly stylish these days.

 

And so Lucius finds himself a patron of Science, funneling major Malfoy gold into the research and development work of one Theodore Eridan Nott, son of one of his late Death Eater cohorts, who now fancies himself a self-made Scientist. Both men share a common impetus for life - They do what they do because they fucking can.

 

Why does Lucius Malfoy want to own a Time Turner that defies Croaker’s Law of Time Travel? Because he fucking can. And because nobody else has the means and the backroom connections that would necessitate obtaining one. Why is Theodore Nott developing said Time Turner? Because he fucking can. And because nobody else dared to do it.

 

Actually, that’s not entirely true. There is an unspoken underlying motivation behind Theodore’s work. Theodore knows that if he does this for Lucius, the Malfoy elder might flip his shit marginally less than utterly when he finds out his precious son and heir is having an affair with Theo.

 

And, actually _that_ is also not entirely true. You see, it isn’t really an _affair_. Having an affair implies that one’s spouse is unaware or otherwise disapproves of the extra-marital relationship. Astoria Malfoy knows that Draco Malfoy has been fucking Theodore Nott for years. She entered the marriage knowing exactly what she was getting – a wealthy husband whose family would financially bail out the fallen House of Greengrass. She knew she’d not get a doting, loving, heterosexual husband.

 

Still, this knowledge was no consolation for playing the role of Draco’s wife. The strain of a loveless, sexless, sham marriage had taken its toll. The press called her _frail of health_. But Draco called her drunk. All the time. Poor Dear succumbed to alcoholism, but not before Draco’s own heir had been produced at great cost.

 

But we digress. Let us return to the subject of bored-as-fuck rich men.

 

Specifically, let us examine the relationship between bored-as-fuck rich men and Time. For Theodore Nott, time is a malleable lover – one that need only gentle coaxing and magic to unravel and to bend at his behest in the most magnificent ways. (It was no wonder that Draco had succumbed to Theodore in the same way.)

 

The Polytemporal Time Turner, or PTT as Theodore refers to it, can be set along two different aspects of time. One can set the clock back any number of years, days, minutes, and can also restrict the window of time travel. Want to go back to 1975 for an hour and twenty minutes? Now you can, with the adjustment of a few dials and the press of a button.

 

It had taken Theodore years of tinkering and testing and some rather revealing forays into time travel to perfect his invention. There was no way that Draco would let Theo have all the fun on his own. And so it was Draco, Theodore’s research assistant by default, who shared in these _subtle_ adventures.

 

 _Subtle_ , because even the smallest interferences with history could set off a cascade of events that would irreparably change their present-day reality. And the two young men rather liked their charmed lives, discounting for the fact that they were unspoken societal outcasts in the post-war world. Ever the careful and calculating Slytherins, Theodore and Draco had understood the dangers of recklessly leaping back in time. So they moved through history as imperceptibly as possible – mere flies (or butterflies, really) on the wall, observing the past with the perspective of ones who had been there, truly living the adage that hindsight was twenty-twenty.

 

If you ask Theodore publicly why he chose those specific instances to relive, he’d simply tell you in the least self-serving manner that it was for science. He did it all for science.

 

If privately consulted however, Theodore would tell you an entirely different story.

 

And so here we have it. Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, and muggles alike, we give you Time Turner Tuesdays.

 

Why Tuesdays? Well, there were simply no other days left unoccupied.

 

Malfoy Mondays were a celebration of all things blond and ostentatious. Wednesdays were reserved for, well, activities befitting the midweek hump (wink, wink). On Thursdays, Theodore was the focus of Draco’s attention, most ostensibly at the end of a riding crop (another collection of stories entirely). Fridays were meant to be forgotten by Saturday with the help of a great deal of liquor or otherwise illicit substances, and foolishly repeated by Saturday night. Leaving Sundays for being lazy, entangled in Egyptian cotton sheets.

 

And so, on Tuesdays, we turn back time.


	2. Chapter 1: Wild Horses Run Faster

_PTT Setting: 2 August 1993, Twenty Minute Window_

 

 

Location, as in real estate and as in time travel, is of utmost importance. Theodore understands this intimately.

 

His loft is in a less-than-desirable area of Southend London – a converted industrial space with smutty windows and ample square footage, perfect for the bachelor with a penchant for strutting about in his underpants and performing non-ministry-sanctioned experiments with illegal magic. Not concurrently, of course. No, Theodore Nott reckons that time turning is one of the few things he does at home that requires clothing. One would not fancy accidentally popping into a glass factory in the Victorian Era wearing nothing but a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs and tattoos twining his arms.

 

Today, Theodore is planning his first test series with the Polytemporal Time Turner. And he knows that location is extremely important in the early development stages. He needs to step back in time to a safe space. A location where there is little to no chance of being spotted.

 

His clever and dutiful (his words, not ours) assistant has a brilliant suggestion.

 

“We should do it in the stables at Malfoy Manor,” Draco suggests.

 

Theodore bites back a lascivious grin as he makes minute adjustments to the hardware with a suitably minute screwdriver. “We’ve done that before and you always end up with straw in the most unfortunate orifices,” he says.

 

When Theodore glances up from the brass device, Draco is giving him a sidelong look. “What are you talking about? We’ve never used it there.”

 

Theodore lets himself smirk fully. “Yeah, you’re right.”

 

Draco pauses, blinking silently at him, and then as realization dawns, he smacks Theodore, not very lightly, on the shoulder. “Pervert,” he mutters. “And for the record, we never fucked in the stables.” Now it’s Draco’s turn to smirk lasciviously. “I once pushed you up against the wall _behind_ the stables and gave you the blowjob of the century, but no. We do not fuck in horse stables like animals.”

 

Theodore snorts a giggle. He knows that Draco’s haughtiness is facetious. He tries not to dwell too much on the recent memory of Draco getting on his knees in the grass after a vigorous ride over the estate. “Anyway, the stable’s brilliant. Secluded. Very little chance of human interaction. And if we go far enough back in time, we’ll know, because…”

 

Theodore pauses here for sensitivity’s sake. He doesn’t want to put Draco in a foul mood on an ever-important day of scientific experimentation. But Draco is unaffected, at least he puts on a good show of it, as he always does.

 

“Because Baldur will be there,” Draco states, with maybe the slightest hint of sad nostalgia glinting in his silver-grey eyes.

 

Theodore nods solemnly. “Exactly… Perfect indication of time period without needing to interact with humans to obtain a time marker.”

 

Draco moves the conversation along without having to dwell wordlessly upon the death of his favorite horse. “It’d probably be wise to go back prior to The Occupation. Merlin knows what the Death Eaters were getting up to on my property while it was under siege.”

 

“You’re so prudent, I could kiss you,” Theodore coos, leaning in to do just that, leaving Draco’s lips smiling slightly.

 

“My word, Theodore - I’d no idea you found practicality so sexy,” Draco jokes.

 

“I’m just thrilled that you’re so into this. _Just along for the ride_ my arse. You’re as much of a nerd as I am.”

 

“Such a nerd,” Draco drawls in agreement, but more with the latter part of the statement, before pecking Theodore on the mouth. “Set the PTT to 1993. Should be safe.”

 

 

~//~

 

“Ouch!” Draco hisses, as quietly as he can, terribly indignant, “Whilst traveling through time is not the appropriate moment to pinch my arse, Theodore.”

 

Theodore puts his hands up quite innocently, and indignant himself. “I did nothing of the sort! Time travel _hurts_. You know that, Draco.”

 

Draco rubs his smarting backside and mutters bitterly, “It figures that _yours_ would be the sort of time turner that gives you a sore bum.”

 

“I’ll use more lube next time,” Theodore jokes.

 

Draco quickly forgets his aching glutes and Theodore’s filthy sense of humor when he lays his eyes on the most beautiful creature ever to grace the earth… other than himself. Baldur, a glorious Blue Roan gelding, stands regally in his stable, and the soft sound that the horse makes is one of immediate recognition. “We did it.” Draco smiles subtly with an equally understated remark of triumph.

 

“Brilliant!” Theodore declares, much more enthusiastically than his partner, “We should have twenty minutes. I’ll write up my findings while we wait. And I’ll need you to scope out any other time markers as best you can.”

 

Draco moves tentatively towards his horse and mumbles a half-hearted agreement.

 

“I’ll give you a few minutes to reacquaint yourself, of course,” Theodore offers softly with a sympathetic kiss on the forehead. “But, remember what we talked about.”

 

Draco gives a slight nod, but isn’t sure of his ability to keep himself emotionally detached from the past. Not this time. “Mm-hm. Treat the souls of the past with the distant reverence one regards portraits.”

 

But Draco can’t. It’s his Baldur! His mighty beast, restored to all his virile, muscled, glory. He reaches his hand out and the horse’s nose meets it for a tender nuzzle. “Hello, old friend,” Draco whispers, hoping to Merlin that Theodore isn’t hovering, especially now that he feels impending tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

 

He didn’t think it would be like this. That seeing something from his past would give him more than a tingle of nostalgia – that it would wrench his heart into pieces – that it would hurt so fucking much to return to the time before their world was torn apart by dark wizards and war.

 

Theodore was right. Time travel is painful.

 

Draco doesn’t have time to linger and ache for his beloved dead horse. For Theodore is swearing under his breath and grabbing Draco by the wrist.

 

“Fuck. This shouldn’t be happening,” Theodore laments in a whisper. “Come on – we need to get up there.” He gestures to the hayloft.

 

The two scramble up the ladder into the hay, high up within the barn, and not a moment too soon. Because a very cool and aloof teenage Draco is entering the stable as a lanky teenage Theodore hesitates in the doorway trying to look equally cool and aloof, but inevitably looking awkward. Present day Theodore is tall and slender in all the elegant ways that Draco finds delicious. Teenage Theodore, however…

 

Beneath a quieting charm, Draco snorts amusedly. “Gods, look at you, Theo. That’s our time marker right there.”

 

“Shut up,” Theodore groans, rolling his eyes.

 

“All arms and legs, and no coordination,” Draco assesses, as if seeing his best mate for the first time.

 

“Fuck you. I can’t be older than thirteen or fourteen,” Theodore justifies. But it is just too startlingly apparent how well Draco is adjusting to puberty compared to Theodore. “Anyway, we weren’t supposed to be here. I set the PTT to a very safe date in 1993. If it’s truly the second of September, we’re not supposed to even be home! We should be at Hogwarts.”

 

Theodore lowers a pair of magnifying goggles onto his eyes and examines the time turner, careful not to tinker with it while they’re in the past. “Bugger. The lunar temporal setting got stuck. We must be in August or something.”

 

Meanwhile, Draco can’t get over teenage Theodore’s ungainliness and only vaguely registers what current Theodore is saying. “Merlin, your voice. It’s changed three octaves within the same sentence,” Draco snickers.

 

Theodore narrows his eyes at Draco. “Yes. Puberty was very unkind to me. I was painfully aware of it then, and really don’t need to be reminded of it now.”

 

“Simmer down, Theo. Try to see the humor in it. Look at yourself. Look your face. I can’t even…” Draco has to bite on his suit jacket to keep from laughing out loud.

 

Theodore is not amused. “What’s wrong with my face?”

 

“Nothing. It’s just that stupid teenage me is so fucking blind!” Draco muses, “You were so in love with me and it was written all over your face, and there I am, trying so fucking hard to impress you. Merlin, I sort of want to yell at myself, _calm your tits, Malfoy, you have him already._ I mean, look at me. What sort of teenage douchebag wears Ray Bans while horseback riding? Did I really think those sunglasses would make you think I was cool?”

 

“Gods, I thought you were the coolest,” Theodore groans, yearningly. “I’m pretty sure this was around the time when I began having entirely unholy thoughts about you. I mean, _that arse,_ bouncing up and down on a horse. And those sunglasses? Fuck. My undoing.”

 

“If I only knew,” Draco sighs wistfully.

 

“If _I_ only knew.” Theodore mirrors Draco’s sigh, but his feels heavier.

 

Draco knew how much his refusal to admit his feelings for his best mate had affected Theodore, and how in turn it had left Draco alone when he needed his friend the most.

 

They watch in silence as the two boys mount the horses and ride off together, one much more graceful than the other. One hiding so much more than his eyes behind designer shades. And as the figures disappear down the grassy knoll, Draco and Theodore exhale with relief.

 

Draco lounges upon the bed of straw and savors the musk of horses and youth. He turns to Theodore and asks, “If you could have told your teenage self one thing at that moment, what would it have been?”

 

Theodore bites the corner of his bottom lip and ponders. “Hmm…” And as he contemplates, he casually rolls onto Draco and lies astride him. “I would tell him that everything was going to be alright. That Draco would betray him, and he would betray Draco, but they’d reunite and their love would be stronger than ever, such that nothing would ever divide them again. Not war. Not blood purist fathers. Not public opinion.”

 

Draco smiles up at Theodore. Wordlessly, with a kiss, he tells the other just how much he truly is loved.

 

Theodore’s lips migrate to the side of Draco’s neck. He murmurs against his skin and Draco feels the warmth of his lover’s whisper like a seductive caress. “And then I’d tell him one last thing. That some day, in this very stable, you are going to shag that boy blind.”

 

Draco chuckles. “You’d lie to your teenage self like that? Give him wet dreams and high hopes?”

 

And as Theodore gently rolls his hips over Draco’s, creating sweet, hot friction, he says… “Best we not make a liar out of me.”

 

Draco’s dark smirk reflects Theodore’s own as he drawls, “Then you’d better fuck me into the next century. Because I can’t very well be in love with a liar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to Colorfulstabwound for graciously allowing me to use their ideas. I reverently borrowed the stuff about horses from chapter 6 of their story March Fifteenth.


End file.
